Invictus
by Ellesemera
Summary: She beheld his pale face with those greasy hair and dark eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw a kindred soul in there somewhere. He was all alone, just like her. "Do you trust me?" "Yes." She thought she felt his hand shake a little at her response. "When I say jump," he spoke quietly and pressed her hand carefully, "jump. And no matter what happens, don't let go.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

Severus's footsteps were muffled by the damp ground as he walked. His head was hung low and the cogitations of his mind were troubled. The darkness of his cloak was engulfed by the darkness surrounding him.

It was over.

The Dark had prevailed over light.

Few members of the Order who had survived had fled.

It had been ten days since Potter had met his demise.

His throat was parched but he had refrained from stopping at a local bar. He had to take all the precautions necessary for their safety. After a few minutes lapsed, he finally halted at the door of a ramshackle cottage. To an outsider, it would not be visible at all. It was protected by the Fidelius charm.

His coal black eyes moved over the rusted door knob and he ran his fingers over the coarse metal. The jagged surface was reminiscent of the bitterness ensconced in his heart.

As soon as he entered the sitting area, his obsidian eyes fell upon the solitary figure huddled near the stained window. The sound of his entrance caused her to look up and he could see flickering hope die in her eyes as soon as she saw him.

"It's over, Miss Granger," he said and sat down opposite to her in the dilapidated armchair that graced the fading interior of the room. She nodded dejectedly at his pronouncement and looked back at the stained window.

He could discern faint marks of recently shed tears.

"What next, Professor?" she enquired softly. He could sense a touch of hysteria in the melancholy refrains of her voice. He withdrew a brown package tucked inside his robes and placed it in his lap.

"We leave. Tomorrow," he informed and began to tear open the cheap paper. "We shall assume different identities and go south. The Dark Lord's forces are in a state of disarray. He may have defeated the Order but his own house is by no means organised. It should not be difficult to seek a quieter hamlet, somewhere south, where he would not strike for many years to come."

"So in essence, we will save our hides flee like _cowards_," she remarked bitterly.

"We have discussed this before, Miss Granger-" he began but she interrupted him.

"It doesn't obfuscate the fact that we _are _running away. They're all _dead,_ Professor. I, at least, have no reason to live. I should be fighting until my last breath. I should not have hid here, with _you_ no less, since Harry… ten days ago." She stood up suddenly and began to pace the rotting floor board. "It is _treachery_ to leave his side when he's dead. _Is there nothing that I can do_?"'

Her question was rhetorical, he knew, and not aimed at him. Nevertheless, he replied.

"You do realise, with you celebrated intellect, that I have been making efforts to get in touch with the last surviving members of the Order." He shook his head and looked into the empty fireplace. "Not many survived and those who did have probably fled the country by now. No, Miss Granger, it is _folly_ to linger here at the brink of destruction and wait for certain death to catch up with us. The sooner we leave, the colder our trail would be and it would make it extremely difficult for them to find us."

She said nothing for a while.

"Why did you save me, professor?"

He was surprised at her query.

He looked at the forlorn countenance of the girl before him and sighed.

"Do you regret being alive, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. It is hardest for those who live, is it not? The dead who lie rotting in their respective graves are at peace," she commented and accepted the ebony wand from him. He had taken great risks to acquire two wands for himself and her. "Even _justice _is denied to us. The murderers of our friends and allies march in victory on streets while we hide in grimy shelters."

Severus fingered the hawthorn wand in his palm and ignored her frenzied rant. It was best to not engage grieving people in arguments. Her questions, however, were valid and oddly reminiscent of the pangs of bereavement he had suffered a long time ago. He did not know why he had rescued her. When Potter had fallen, Severus had realised the futility of their endeavour. He had watched, as if in slow motion, Granger scream and stumble over a rock. She had literally fallen at his feet in her hurry to reach her deceased friend. Before either of the sides could comprehend the event, he had grabbed her and had run from the battle-field. His adversary, whom he had been combating for five minutes before Potter's fall, had fallen unconscious at the slight snap of Severus's fingers.

In some ways, he had had no option but to save her. He could not have left her to die when she lay at his feet. And whilst he had fled, he had hoped that others had done the same. He supposed they must have since he could find no trace, even in whispered mutterings around public houses, of the survivors. For ten days he had raked every nook of London, under disguise, to seek tidings. There were none to be had. The light had fallen irrevocably and the Dark Lord was consolidating his victories. Whilst there was still confusion and uproar among the common masses, they would have an effective cover. They would be able to leave without much suspicion.

Silence between them was broken by faint squeaks emerging from the floorboards underneath them. There were mice in the cottage.

"What about money?" she asked as she waved her wand in familiar patterns and tried to make the wand comply with her magic. He noticed how she shivered in her skin. He was too skilled a Legilimens to not be able to comprehend her mental state.

"We'll work," he drawled and snapped his fingers. The table lying before them was free of dust. "It is a Muggle village. Adapting to their way of life would be our best cover."

_For the time being_, he added in his mind.

He had every intention of carrying on the war he had waged against the despised Dark lord twenty years ago.

He could still smell the soft, lavender scent of Lily's skin and in his mind, until he was dead, he was fated to fight.

He had escaped only so that he would live to battle again.

* * *

They moved furtively through the thickly crowded streets. It was raining heavily and Hermione kept her head shrouded so that she would not be recognised easily. There were in the streets of Muggle London and she was well versed with the roads and streets. Her experience, however, was not called for. The Professor was extremely familiar to their surroundings. His black cloak billowed and slashed at the air behind him as he wove in an out of the crowd.

The evenings were always mournful.

But the darkness lent them anonymity.

"Why are we boarding a bus?" she hissed under her breath. He seemed not to hear her and beckoned her to keep moving. There were a great many vagabonds and thieves about. She could see their crooked smiles glistening with lust and greed. Why he had chosen this particular street, she could not fathom. In any case, he was moving far too quickly and she was finding it difficult to keep pace with his long strides.

There was this ever present, twisting, writhing pain in her chest that swallowed most of her thoughts. It subsumed her being and she had to fight valiantly to not break down and give up. It had taken all her strength to keep her sanity and will to live ever since… _No, she must not think of it. She had to be strong. She would find a way. _

She would not let Harry's death be in vain.

"Ouch!" she yelped as a burly man, under the pretence of squeezing through the scant space, groped at her. She pushed his hands off herself and gave him a shove but he caught her by the waist and pressed her against the wall.

"Give us a kiss, lass, and I'll let you run," he slurred and pushed against her stomach.

She froze for a moment.

She blinked and curled her hands into fists as the man brought his wet and dripping tongue close to her face. But before she could hit him and be done with his depravity, a black figure swooped down on the man from behind.

"Let her go or I will twist your neck and leave you to perish," he murmured softly and Hermione noticed Severus's long fingers twist around her assailant's neck. The ugly man's grip on her loosened and she wriggled out of his way. Her wrists stung and she thought she must have bruised. As she looked, Severus snapped his fingers and hit the man in the back of his head.

No one noticed a body fall down.

"Stay close. We must not delay any longer," he growled at her and caught her wrist, yanking her away from the general crowd and passed under a dark passageway. She fumed at his words. One would think she had _wanted _that dastardly man to accost and grope her.

"In here." He motioned towards the station gate. Her hand still rested protectively enclosed in his. The rain made it difficult for her to see beyond a few feet but the buses were conspicuous by their blazing headlights. She literally stumbled across the drenched pavement as he dragged her after him and was panting by the time they reached the bus.

There weren't many people inside and she heaved a sigh of relief when he let go of her hand and directed her to a seat that was farthest from prying eyes. She shrugged some wetness off herself and was immediately pinned with an admonishing glare from his side.

"I'm wet, Professor," she reasoned. "If I don't get dried up, I will catch a cold before we even reach there."

At her answer, he turned his head and looked out of the window. The falling darkness was comforting for it provided them shelter. She grabbed a fistful of her clothes in her hand and squeezed it. The dripping sound of water made him turn his head in her direction.

She bit her lip and tried not to look his way.

Suddenly, she thought she heard his fingers snap and lo!

Her clothes were dry.

"I thought we weren't supposed to use magic," she commented dryly and placed her bag between her legs. Her wand was carefully hidden in its sheath which was strapped to her right arm.

"A little _louder _and I'm sure the place would be teeming with our enemies," he spoke through gritted teeth. His voice was low and his tone measured but she could see that he was annoyed. "Now sit silently and look normal. And do not call me _'Professor'_ from here on. It will attract undue attention, something we are rather _keen_ on avoiding."

After this, Hermione spoke nothing and stared straight ahead. A few people threw her curious looks but she refrained from glaring at them.

She did not know where they were going but as long as there was hope of regrouping and fighting, she was willing to take any risk. Moreover, she did trust the professor seated beside her. He would not take a chance if there was no hope.

There was hope still.

As long as life remained, they could fight.

And fight they would.

* * *

It was a small house. The paint was chapped in several places and grime on the floor stuck like vice to the surface but taken altogether, the place could be made habitable. Severus ran his finger over the dust filled counter and looked straight at the beady-eyed man in front of them. Hermione was examining a few discoloured pots that lay near the window.

"This will do very well, Mr Wells," he said smoothly and stuck out his thin hand. The older man grasped it eagerly and put down the keys on the counter. "Now if you will excuse us, we should get started on cleaning."

Severus's words made it quite apparent that he wanted the man gone but Mr Wells did not take the hint.

"Is she your girlfriend?" He quirked his eyebrows towards Hermione and asked.

"What?"

The man was unfazed by Severus's hostile look and seemed rather intent on pressing. Hermione was out of earshot and for this, Severus was thankful.

"She don't look like a relative and I don't see no ring on the finger." He prodded his own finger and looked at Severus expectantly. For a moment, Severus panicked at the man's question. But it was not for nothing that he had been a spy. This question, though innocent, could prove to be dangerous in future if he did not settle it.

He needed to deal with it.

"She's my wife," he agreed and shot her a quick look. Thankfully, she hadn't looked their way. "Our rings are at the jewellers for polishing. I'm sure you understand how it is with women and trinkets…"

Wells nodded briefly as his eyes flickered over to Hermione. "You'll be needing the furniture, of course? I know a chap just around the corner. Be glad to supply you with it."

Severus looked at the lease papers moodily as he signed them. "Of course," he said absently and stared out of the window. "If you will be so kind as to _excuse _us, Mr Wells, we really _must _get our house in order."

"Sure Sure." The man nodded vigorously and gave him a toothy grin before he let himself out of the back door. He stared hard at the table in front of him.

Hermione had told him of the Horcruxes.

They had destroyed all, including the one in Potter's body. Nagini was dead and Hermione had personally attested to having destroyed all the others_. Then why…?_

_Why had the Dark Lord not perished as he ought to have?_

_What had kept him alive?_

_Horcruxes…_

_Or could it be that he was truly mortal again?_

No, his curse had rebounded off Potter once more. He should have been slain.

Unless… There was something else.

_Something that had been overlooked by everyone else. _

"I can't do this anymore." Her trembling voice interrupted his thoughts and he was forced to look down at the girl who had collapsed on the floor. What was she doing sitting in dust?

She was crying.

"Pull yourself together, Miss Granger," he snapped and turned away from her. "You do more harm to yourself than good by giving in like this."

"_Giving in?"_ she snarled and he heard the distinct stamping of foot. So she had stood up. "My parents are _dead._ Harry is _dead_ and the fate of others remains unknown. I haven't allowed myself any time to grieve over the death of my best friend and you have the _audacity_ to stand there and tell me I do more harm than good! What have _you_ lost, Professor?"

He cursed inwardly. He did not like dealing with hysterical women. Moreover, he was weary and had been so for the last ten days. He did not need this.

In any case, he needed to see this furniture chap and sort out the deal.

"You _will_ talk to me with respect, Miss Granger, and until you learn to abide by those rules, I suggest you keep your mouth _shut_," he warned her quietly, not raising his voice above a whisper and slammed the door shut behind him.

* * *

She scrubbed the floor vigorously, hoping to drown out the numerous voices in her head that screamed at her. The Professor had been gone for more than five hours by that time. She wondered if he would return at all.

A simple look around the small house had reminded her of her parents. They had been slaughtered mercilessly the previous year.

Sometimes, and she had had very little time to grow accustomed to it, everything was too much altogether. It had taken her an entire day to get the grime off the floor. Only a little patch was left and then she would begin with the counters and move over to other rooms.

The house had to be made habitable.

"What are you doing?"

She hadn't heard him arrive. Without deigning to glance at him, she continued her scrubbing.

"Step away from the floor, Miss Granger," he ordered but she ignored him. Finally, after about a minute in which she could feel his menacing glare piercing the back of her head, she heard him snap his fingers. This time, she looked up. All the counters and widows were clean.

_Sparkling clean. _

"_Again_, I thought we were not allowed to use magic," she bit out at him and threw the washcloth unceremoniously on the floor. "You're breaking your own rules."

She felt like punching him when he sneered at her.

"I said we are not to use our _wands _except in case of extreme emergencies. And as you can see, I did not use my wand," he chided her and looked over her unkempt state. "Get cleaned up, Miss Granger. It will not take me more than a few minutes to get this house in order."

"Fine." She put as much cold and frost as she could into her voice but it had little effect on him. Before she exited the door, however, she halted and looked at the tall man standing behind the stove and turning its knobs. "Why did you lie to that man about our relationship?"

The question had been bothering her for quite some time now and she needed to know.

She even felt affronted that the man had taken his word at face value.

For heaven's sake, she was young enough to be his daughter.

"It seemed to be the best alternative in our condition. Men try to solicit single girls' attention rather frequently and we could ill afford the attention," he supplied smoothly and looked straight into her eyes. "We want to be left alone, Miss Granger, for the most part. Remember that."

"We'll fight, won't we? This is just a temporary setback, isn't it?" she asked him directly. "All this.. is for preparation, is it not? We will fight against them…"

She saw his lips part slightly as his eyes took in her flushed countenance.

"Until the very last breath, Miss Granger," he said quietly and went back to examining the stove.

She looked down at the floor and shut the door quietly behind her.

She had always believed that being good was all that mattered and everything would sort itself.

Probably not.

Besides, she had a goal to accomplish.

For as long as there was even an iota of breath left in her lungs, she would not let Harry's sacrifice go waste.

* * *

Leave a little review and I shall write more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

A week had slipped by and entered the realm of memory. The village was a motley collection of around a hundred houses and remained detached from the modern world for the most part. Their neighbours were friendly enough if a little intrusive. The men folk would stop by to chat in the evenings without prior information or notice and treat the house like their personal palace. Owing to Severus's curt if not rude responses, however, their frequent trips had lessened. The women were an entirely different matter and Hermione found it extremely trying to keep them company. She had snapped at two of them in frustration and was regarded by most as an ill-tempered young woman. She still had to put on cordial air when someone did turn up but was not required to indulge in banal affairs of the womenfolk on a day to day basis.

She and Severus spent most of their time researching the various causes that might have toppled Dumbledore's plan. She read books, tallied notes and did everything in her power to find a way to contend with the evil power at its height. She also handled the kitchen work. He cleaned. She did the laundry. He did the dishes. It was organised. Sometimes, it was hard for her to believe that she was actually living with her former professor.

Hermione had managed to find work in a local grocery store. It was mundane work, rife with everyday banter of the most foolish kind with the locals. She did not relish it in the least but it did keep her away from thoughts of murder and arson.

It was true.

She wanted to set the world on fire for all that she had lost and burn in the raging inferno.

But, never mind.

The quiet lull of countryside was treacherous. She had to remind herself of the fact that they had lost a war over and over again. Hermione gazed outside the window while she chopped a few onions at the kitchen counter. The war had dissipated into a festering wound on the psyche in the last few days. It seemed so far away. It was almost a part of the world she had never imagined in her wildest dreams.

And now, for the time being or perhaps forever, it was gone.

They had wracked their minds to dust. He had questioned and made her repeat every tiny detail of Dumbledore's plan but to no avail. It hadn't worked. Something had been overlooked.

Something so potent that it had changed the entire course of war.

They had lost.

_Not yet_, she told herself as unbidden tears threatened to overflow the barriers of her eyelids.

She had nightmares.

_Repeatedly. _

The faces of her deceased friends haunted her.

_Not yet. Don't give up, yet._

"_Ouch_!" she hissed under her breath as the knife accidentally slid through her skin and reddened the chopping block with her blood.

"You want to be careful with those choppers," a smiling female voice commented from the doorway and Hermione fought back the urge to curse loudly. It was Emily. She was Hermione's age and stopped by at odd times, mindless of how it impacted her day and was uncomfortable to her. Like always, she stepped indoors and sat down at the table without invitation.

Hermione scraped the onion stuck to the bloodied tray and threw it into the waste-bin. She paid her unwelcome visitor no heed and searched for some band-aid to tie around her finger. It stung as she poured some antiseptic over the wound.

All this while, Emily's eyes stalked Hermione. She was keenly aware of the rustic girl's fascination and shuddered at the implications. She really had no inclination to speak with her.

"What brings you down here today, Emily?" She turned and leaned against the counter as she smiled a false smile at her. The girl stared at Hermione's tired face unashamedly.

"Lots of hard work, being married and all?" she asked curiously.

Hermione had to fight back a groan that lingered along her throat.

"Yes. It is," she answered shortly and wiped her wet hands on the apron. She wished the stupid girl would go away.

The Professor had not intimated her of any details regarding his destination when he went in the morning. It wasn't for his mundane duties as an accountant in the local business. She wasn't naïve enough to think he would need his wand for the same.

He had said that they would keep low.

That they would not venture heedless into the arms of despair and lose.

And yet, something told her that he had done _that_ _very_ _thing_.

A strange sense of foreboding filled her bereaved heart.

"Does it hurt very much the first time?"

Her innocent words interrupted Hermione's macabre thoughts and she cringed. She simply nodded at the girl and began working once more. But Emily would not leave her alone. She crept towards Hermione slowly and caught her by the hand.

"Please… I need to know, I am so afraid… You see, I'm getting married at the end of this month and I…" she gulped and gazed into Hermione's brown eyes. Hermione's eyes travelled to her trembling lips and she looked away.

"Look, you'll be fine alright… It's nothing too hard," she reassured the panicked girl. Her words were empty. It wasn't like she had ever had the chance to experience… She had wanted Ron to be the one but he…

_Dead_.

"Right." Emily seemed to have got a hint of her reluctance for, presently; she stepped back and looked at the floor moodily. "I'm sorry for having bothered you. I'll-I'll just leave now."

The quiet distress in the girl's voice moved Hermione and she put a hand on her shoulder.

"Look, Emily, you'll be fine. As long as the prospective husband loves you, he won't hurt you. You've nothing to worry about." She gave her a small smile. "Be thankful that virginity is the only loss you have to deal with in the near future and hopefully, for many years to come…"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she said quietly as she cut the capsicum into neat, long pieces. "You'll be okay."

She had had to grow up too quickly for her liking.

* * *

"_Professor_!" she cried and jumped from her cushioned seat in fright as soon as she saw him stumble into the doorway.

He was covered in blood. She hurried to his staggering form and supported him to the living room sofa with much effort. Once there, he slumped into the second-hand furniture and closed his eyes. She stood staring at his face for a few moments before her senses claimed her and she ran to fetch Dittany from the cupboard.

There were too many gashes spread all over his body. Bits of his flesh had been scorched and were giving off a foul odour. His breathing was heavy and broken. All the while she attended to his visible wounds; he kept his eyes shut and took in air through his mouth. It was uncanny to witness her former professor, her professor who exuded strength and inscrutability, lie there helpless in front of her.

As the essence of Dittany coursed its way through his skin and stabilised him, he began to stir and opened his eyes. He was weary and looked spent.

She, too, was weary.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he rasped as soon as he noticed her bent over his prone from. He shifted on the couch and tried to steady his breathing. Hermione did not know what to do with herself or him. She had been worried all day long. He had cautioned her to take every step for safety and from the looks of it, he had been a _hypocrite_. It would not have been too bad if she had had anyone else for company in this… exile…

Everyone else was gone and the thought of losing the last person with whom she could identify was terrifying.

Even if the last person happened to be _Professor Snape. _

She withdrew from his side and went to the refrigerator to pour him some water. The strange sound that water made when it contacted its own kind in the glass was magnified to her perceptive ears. She handed him the glass and twiddled her thumbs in anticipation. She hoped that he would tell her about this reckless sojourn he had indulged in.

"Not tonight, Miss Granger," he said quietly when he handed back the empty glass to her. "There have been developments that are far too sinister to be discussed under the accursed cover of this night…"

* * *

She tapped the parchment with the end of her quill and looked up at her former professor in concern. He was still recuperating. The wounds had healed but she had noticed the slight limp in his walk when he had left the house for work in the morning. He had had difficulty eating his breakfast. She had held her silence all through the day and waited for the evening to arrive when he would, hopefully, brief her about his doings. Theirs may have been an unequal partnership imposed by chance but she was still entitled to information.

_Every bit of it. _

"I don't understand your premise, Professor," she addressed him in confusion. "Correct me if I'm wrong but you're saying that it was not the Dark Lord's curse that killed Harry and that it was all planned. The battle scene was staged to provide a cover for something?"

Severus nodded as he sipped his glass of sherry and looked into the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace.

"The Dark Lord is no fool," he began slowly. "He had tried and failed to murder Potter as an infant and a boy. He was no idiot and would not have been lured into a battle in which he could lose. We made a mistake there in underestimating his powers of inference and correction. No, Miss Granger, he is no fool."

"And _Dumbledore_ made a mistake? I fail to see how his intellectual capabilities have anything to do with what happened?"

"Yes, Dumbledore was… a great wizard but he _failed_ and the result of his failure lies before us." He held up a hand when Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt. "The Dark Lord _knew_ what would happen when he cursed Potter. He knew _exactly_ what lay in store. He cursed Potter knowing _fully_ _well_ that the piece of his soul that was harboured in Potter would be freed as a result of the curse."

"That's ridiculous! He didn't even know that Harry was a Horcrux. He couldn't possibly have known that or he would not have killed Harry!" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Why would he want to destroy the last Horcrux he had? Why would he want to kill a part of his own soul?"

"Quiet, Miss Granger," he growled at the girl before him and fixed her with a penetrating look. "Yes, he did not know that Potter was a Horcrux but I have reason to believe that he knew, at least during the last stage of the battle. As for the next part, do you know what happens when Horcruxes are destroyed?"

Hermione was dumbfounded at his question. But she was determined to try for an answer. It did feel much like a classroom interrogation anyway.

"I suppose the portion of the soul contained therein dies…"

"No."

She frowned at the notes she had made and wondered at his answer. "But it _must_. Surely, that is what would happen. Where else could the soul go?"

Severus sipped a little more and stared long at the bottle in front of him. She did not like drinking anything really and would not have condoned it but it wasn't like she had an option here. She could hardly nag _him_ like she had done her best friends.

"The fragments of one's soul, when freed from the object, reunite with that part which resides in the body. In other words, every Horcrux, when destroyed, releases the fragment held in it which then goes to unite with the master. And that," He leaned forward and stared into her honey brown eyes, "is the reason why the Dark Lord would've _let_ the Horcrux in Harry's body be freed. Not _killed_, Miss Granger, but freed so that the Dark Lord's soul could be whole again."

Horrified, Hermione looked at his face and swallowed. Her throat was parched and she felt like her tongue was made of leather as she ran it over her cracked lips.

"I never read about this. How could Dumbledore not know of it? Wasn't he a greater wizard than Tom Riddle? How could he not…"

Severus shook his head and stared at the quill in her hand. "I don't know, Miss Granger. I do not have all the answers."

A small suspicion crossed her mind as she surveyed his careworn face. "When did you find out about this?"

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday…" she echoed his words. "You came back torn and bleeding. I thought we were supposed to keep a low profile for the time being. You broke your own rules once again."

He scowled at her darkly and gulped the last remnants of sherry. "It was necessary."

"I suppose I don't get to know what it was that caused you to almost die at the doorstep of this house."

"No," he snapped at her and got up. As she watched with crossed arms, he paced the room to and fro. "Suffice it to know that all evidence of our existence has been erased. But that is _not_ the issue at hand. We are not here to hide and wait till death claims us."

Hermione laid her head down on the table and watched his frenzied movement.

"I know but it doesn't seem like you want to involve me in anything at all. You tell me nothing, I stay here most of the day and feel fucking _useless_," she mentioned sarcastically. "I might be young but that is no reason for you to keep me out of plans and intelligence."

"Language, Miss Granger." He shot her a scathing glare and continued with his incessant motion. "You _do_ realise what it means to be in someone's subordination. I'm sure you do. And even though we may be the only ones left here and are alone, you shall not be a partner in this endeavour. You will listen to my instructions and do as I say for it will be in your benefit to act upon my judgement."

Hermione bristled at his words. "Right, because your judgement doesn't leave one dead, just… _crippled_ and _incapacitated_. I'm _sure_ that's what I am looking for, _Professor_."

He ignored her remark and her, generally. She got the distinct impression that he was trying to think.

No way was she going to listen to him and do as he said with blind faith. Sure, he was more experienced and perhaps more powerful but she was capable enough in her own right. She sat with her arms crossed and watched his movements like a hawk.

It was just her luck, to have been stuck with the likes of _him_. Not that he was a bad person but he was definitely not someone she would want to be cooped up with for an indefinite amount of time. And as matters stood, he was the only familiar in this world… of unknowns.

"We must leave tomorrow if we are to make efforts towards this…" he muttered under his breath but Hermione's keen ears picked up.

"Leave? But where? I thought the plan was to stay here." She gazed at him worriedly. "Why can't you just tell me what it is? I have brains too, you know."

He looked at her with a bored expression on his face and sighed.

"The Dark Lord is too powerful to be defeated in a duel or a battle. But every living being is fated to die and so shall he. I have a proposition which may considerably lessen the amount of time required to confront and win against him. But it is a dangerous path and those who tread it may never return. If you're willing, I shall outline the major points to you but if you're not, you are welcome to stay here and live life as a Muggle."

Although his words were uttered in a nonchalant tone, she could sense the underlying worry.

"If there is a way, then I shall most certainly be a part of it. I swore, in case you have forgotten, to fight until death claims me. I shall not back down, Professor, not when so much has already been lost."

She thought she saw his face darken at her words.

* * *

He could see that she had trouble keeping up with him but he moved quickly, nevertheless. Under the cover of night, they traversed quietly through the forest. It had been too easy a task to seek this end of the world.

No, it was what lay beyond that bothered him.

"Is it very far off?" she asked him when she finally caught up and he could hear her panting beside him.

"No," he replied shortly. "Just a little way off."

"Are you sure it's the right thing to do? I have never partaken of Dark Magic before and I'm not sure how this might turn out. Is there no other way? I thought the Valkyries were a myth…"

He groaned inwardly at her questions. She talked _too_ much and if it had not been absolutely imperative that she accompany him, he would have left without a word. It was true that they were going to enter the Underworld to seek Valkyries, the choosers of the slain. It required an exquisite amount of magical binding on the caster's part to open the portal. And once there, Granger would probably be the only one who would be able to communicate with them. For any chance of success, he needed a female companion.

The Valkyries spoke and listened to one of their kind.

"They are not a myth but yes, most of the knowledge contained in the books about them is fictitious. They seek the bravest who die in the battle-fields, yes, but they also decide who dies and at what point of time. We will seek them so that we may have a clearer idea of what it would take to defeat the Dark Lord. And _you_ don't have to worry about casting any spells or being _tainted_ by Dark Magic. I shall be doing the _honours_." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He hadn't meant for them to sound as they did.

_The girl was too loud for her own good_, he thought as she almost dipped her foot in a puddle of water. They had managed to avoid any dangerous animals so far and Severus hoped to keep it that way. His wandless magic would last a while and he hoped to make it to the precipice before dawn.

"Why didn't Dumbledore do it then, if this was so _easy_?"

_Another question. _

_Did she ever quit?_

She was almost as bad as Lily…

He closed his eyes at that thought.

"It isn't _easy_," he snapped at her. "Dumbledore trusted the damn Prophecy and that was that. He chose his own way of dealing with things and I choose mine."

"What about _my_ way?"

"And what would that be?"

They had arrived at the bridge. It was too narrow and he watched in amusement as apprehension crossed her plain features.

"I-I don't know but I could have one too if only I had enough knowledge," she retorted and looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes. "This looks too dangerous. Can't we fly or something?"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No." He nudged her forward and followed after the anxious girl. "It's magical. You won't fall off."

"So there really is no other way?"

There, once she had got over her fright, she was ready with her cannonball of questions.

_Why could he not have saved someone else?_

"It is better to know before you plan rather than the other way round. We cannot afford to take any chances. If we attack, in any form, it _must_ be successful for it may be our only chance. No, Miss Granger, I do not make plans that might fail and I think it prudent to know the outcome, if possible, before we embark upon any course of action."

She shut up after that as the bridge had begun to sway in the gentle breeze.

Once they had crossed that part of the journey, the only thing left was to search for the stone.

He left Granger standing near the bridge and kept a keen eye out for the hallowed stone. He need not have worried about that bit. As soon as the clouds shifted over the moon and a ray of light struck the ground, the stone was revealed. Severus ran his thin fingers over its cracked surface and looked back at her.

He noticed the strange look on her face as she took a few steps in his direction.

She was a smart girl.

Hermione watched hypnotised as Professor Snape withdrew his wand and channelled his magic through the stone. She could feel the ground beneath them hum as magic coursed through it. As each moment passed, it began to shake violently and she had to grab the nearest tree to hold herself still.

Suddenly, she felt it.

Darkness seemed to pour out of the stone and enveloped the two individuals in its elegant raiment. The screeching sounds of death overwhelmed her and she squeezed her eyes shut as she held on to the tree for dear life.

_Don't let us die here_, she prayed as the wind howled and shrieked around them. She dared not open her eyes for the fear of what she may witness.

As suddenly as it had come, it stopped.

She had fallen on the ground in face of the terrible onslaught of this darkness.

She had never known that Dark Magic could sting.

"You may open your eyes, Miss Granger. It is gone now." For the first time, his silky voice sounded like honey to her ears. She opened her eyes and when she beheld the scene before her, she was tempted to close them again.

It was an abyss.

She gazed into the cold, dark world of the dead and took a step back.

He stood gazing into the dark with a faraway look on his face.

It was fathomless, forlorn and macabre.

She couldn't look at it.

She could not do it.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly and she was surprised to see him standing closer to her. _Hadn't he stood at the edge of the living world only a few moments ago?_ "It is natural to fear but let it not blind you. Come."

He proffered his hand and she looked at it stupidly.

_Really, Hermione. Get a grip on yourself. _

She took it reluctantly and watched fascinated as he led her to the chasm.

It was too dark.

She swallowed.

"P-Professor, I'm not sure that I can d-do this," she rasped and almost took a step back.

"What are you afraid of?" His voice sounded so different, almost messiah like, here, at the edge.

"I'm afraid of being devoured by this terrible darkness that spreads its body all over the world below," she whispered and gazed into the void once more.

"Look at me, Miss Granger."

She beheld his pale face with those greasy hair and dark eyes. For a moment, she thought she saw a kindred soul in there somewhere.

He was all alone, just like her.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

She thought she felt his hand shake a little at her response.

"When I say jump," he spoke quietly and pressed her hand carefully, "jump. And no matter what happens, do not let go of my hand."

She had lost her voice so she nodded in affirmation and looked at their uncertain destination once more.

She owed it to her friends.

She owed it to everyone.

She'd be brave.

They needed answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

For a moment, as they stood peering down into the dark gulf, she was gripped with fear. His fingers pressed her knuckles softly in warning as he stepped towards the chasm. Her first few steps were reluctant. Her eyes widened as they took in the darkness.

Time seemed to stand still…

_They jumped_.

Shadows whirled all around them and she was struck with an intense gust of sharp wind. The storm grew louder, enclosing them and she closed her eyes as unearthly voices shrieked in her ear, calling forth the most fearful memories of her life.

_She screamed. _

Her voice was drowned by the incessant whirlpool into which they were being dragged…

Her grip on his hand was failing her… She needed...

Her fingers slipped through his hand and she would have let go had he not possessed the presence of mind to catch her wrist just in time.

'_Flashes of her friends' death crossed the screen of her mind…'_

Darkness stabbed at her back and she spun out of control, grabbing the front of his robes to hold on to something…. _It wasn't happening again… No, they couldn't die…_

She whimpered in his chest and felt his hand cradle the back of her head.

Another scream left her lips as the howling wind preyed on her fears once more and she was pressed into his chest. She clung to the fabric desperately, refusing to let the agony blind her…

She saw only black before the world changed colour.

It was red when she passed out…

* * *

'_The butterfly was red… It changed colour with every passing moment. _

_She tried to catch it in her outstretched hands but it flew away._

_She giggled joyfully at the trail of sparkling colours it left behind…'_

"Miss Granger." An alien voice seeped into her consciousness and she felt herself being shaken awake. "Can you hear me?"

She groaned and flailed her arms around in a wild motion. His pale face loomed above her and in her woolly mind, she tried to grab it. It moved away from her vision and she was pulled to a seating position. She narrowed her eyes a few times to focus on the images around her and pressed her hand over her head a few times.

"We d-didn't make it?" she asked stupidly, staring at the scenery around her. Everything looked the same. The trees were drenched in the same light, the shrubs, the rocks….

But something was different. There was no sign of the bridge.

Also, it was nearly twilight. They had left behind the cold darkness of night.

"We're there," he snapped at her in impatience. "I wonder if your famed intelligence has simply dissipated with your inability to hold still and not get knocked out by wind."

"It wasn't just the wind, _thank you very much,"_ she retorted as she shrugged the dust off her skirt and looked at the sky. "This doesn't look much like the underworld."

"What, did you really think it was going to be dark and ominous?" He chuckled as he motioned for her to follow him. For some reason, he looked relaxed.

_More than he had in the last few weeks_…

"Well, yeah." She felt for her wand in the robes. "I don't have my wand, Professor."

He glanced behind him once as they made their way through the… _woods_. Yes, she could call it that. There were far too many trees. No sign of life could be discerned, though, and Hermione wondered if being dead truly felt like… well, _this_. If so, it wasn't too bad.

"You don't need a wand here." He snapped his fingers and an overhanging creeper laden with thorns moved aside to make way for them.

_Huh. Don't need a wand?_

What, so she needed to rely on _his_ wandless magic if anything… _unnatural_ crept upon them?

She noticed a few butterflies zooming around a luscious looking flower and had to bite her lip wistfully. She was beginning to get hungry. Not that she'd tell him, no, he would only chastise her for not being… _disciplined_ enough.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a long while when he _finally_ stopped near a huge boulder and removed a thin book from his robes. She craned her neck to look at it but the front page held no title.

_She might just die of those itchy bites_, she thought as she swatted an irksome fly and waited for him to answer.

"I thought I told you already," he answered absently and covered his eyes to gaze at distance. He was searching for something and for the life of her, Hermione could not figure out what it was.

Wasn't the land of dead supposed to be… well, _less_ like it was back _home_.

For one thing, she could do without those damn flies.

"No, what I meant was where are we headed to in this… realm?" She jumped up from her comfortable seat in the hollow of a tree as he began to move forward with a brisk pace. He had longer legs, he could cover larger distances with his normal pace but she still had to run to keep up.

_So much for consideration. _

"We're going to find the Valkyries, Miss Granger. And no, before you ask another asinine question, they cannot simply materialise before us at our wish. This… realm is no different from earth and we shall have to seek what we wish to find…" He sighed dramatically as they reached a pond. "We will need to be careful about what lurks around here at night."

She looked up. The sky was dotted with unfamiliar stars.

Also, there was no moon.

Well, that made sense.

Although, why the underworld had a sky was beyond her comprehension…

"We'll stop here for the night," he muttered and looked around purposely. Perhaps he was searching for a good shelter…

"That tree there might do," she pointed out a huge oak tree on the other side of the pond. He gazed in the same direction for a few moments, as if wondering if that were indeed a good choice, and nodded slowly.

"Fuck!" she let out without second thought as she tripped over a particularly deceptive stone.

"Mind your language, Miss Granger," he commented and snapped his fingers once more. The lower branches of tree tangled among themselves to create a small… cave for them. Well, kind of. She looked at her own hands in disgust.

No wand.

No wandless magic.

She had _not_ signed up for utter _helplessness_.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Scour the place for dry leaves and twigs if you want dinner today."

She shot him a glare.

"There is no food around," she replied as she bent down to pick a few fallen branches off the ground. "I'm not sure I want to eat anything found… here," she muttered under her breath.

She did not like this place.

It was too… natural.

* * *

There were fishes in the pond. She wrinkled her nose as he roasted one in the open fire.

It smelt.

_No, it reeked._

She had not enjoying watching him gut it.

And now, she had to eat it.

"It doesn't feel much different from… back home." She eyed the crackling fire ponderously. His pale face was more relaxed now. She looked around and rubbed her arms before going to sit by him. She was beginning to understand the times when it was best to approach him when she wanted answers.

This was a good time.

"Why is it… _everything_ the same?" She played with a small stone that lay close to her foot. It was rather comical, the way he sat on haunches and held the freshly caught fish in fire. She, however, sat cross-legged and stared into the high rising flames. "In the stories, the underworld was supposed to be different… sort of like a land of nightmare where evil walks free and the conscientious people cower."

He chuckled at her words.

It was an odd sound.

It was sort of guttural and soft at the same time.

"This world is created from memories of the deceased, Miss Granger…"

"So this place is actually existent in the-the other world? On earth?"

He nodded as he placed the fish on a plate. "Yes and no. Memories… flow. They do not exist in a bubble, isolated from influences of their surroundings. What we see is not one coherent remembrance. It is a comingling of many strands of thoughts, unfulfilled dreams… and nightmares."

Hermione took the plate from him and sniffed the cooked meal. It did not appear as bad as she had suspected but nevertheless, it was no delicacy.

Better than nothing, however.

She had no fork. Snape had not bothered to transfigure another twig into cutlery and she was not going to ask him for one.

"How do you know that these are memories? I take it that this is your first … trip here as well?" she asked him as she took a bite. It tasted bad, yes, but not disgusting. It would have to do.

He smiled wistfully at the second fish being roasted in fire. "No, but I have access to second-hand account of one previous traveller." He removed a thin book from his robes and passed it to her. "Read it if you get time. I have it memorised. I hope that after this you would stop pestering me with questions."

She almost grinned at his response as she ran her fingers over the cover.

"All the mythical tales say differently… They talk about a land in the dark and one has to cross the river Styx… I guess they were wrong," she murmured to herself. "They also talked about a ferryman who would transport the souls across the river…"

Snape stared at her face in quiet contemplation for a bit. "Rest assured, Miss Granger, we will face it all. They had-"

He did not finish his sentence for just then, a loud crunching noise caught their attention. Hermione's head whipped around and she froze.

A giant three-headed dog stood a few paces away from her, snarling at her as it pawed the ground. It was ready to attack. Her scream died in her throat as she was pushed aside and she landed dangerously close to the fire. When she did manage to sit up, however, she noticed Snape duck to the side as the dog pounced at him.

He had pushed her to safety.

It growled when it missed it prey and Hermione backed away a little at the ferocity in its posture. She had no wand.

_What the fuck was she going to do?_

_No wand, no spell, no…_

Snape managed to jump away just in time but she saw him crash against a tree. He hissed and manoeuvred a spell, a stunner, but it simply bounced off the dog's thick skin.

It had three heads.

_Oh_.

"Play some music!" she shouted at Severus as he managed to avoid getting hit once more and tried another spell at the beast.

"What?" he roared at her and even in this besieged state of his, she could sense chiselled contempt belying his… _bellow. _

_Really now. _

"Charm a violin, a flute, whatever… It'll lull him to sleep!" she answered loudly. "I'll draw its attention to myself while you do it."

With that, she picked a burning log and flung it at the dog's head, _one_ of its _heads_, with all her strength.

It worked.

The dog was distracted from his attack on Severus and it reared its ugly head towards Hermione. Her legs shook pitifully as she watched the beast's progress.

_Oh she was going to die. _

_Without a wand. _

She took a step back as the creature bent its front paws. Its spring would probably have flattened her to the ground if it was not for the fact that she was too close to the pond and lost her footing over the edge.

She fell in!

With a loud splash.

_Could things get worse?_

In all her struggle to swim with her mouth and eyes full of water, she missed the song playing throughout the clearing.

She coughed and caught hold of the muddy grass at the edge and pulled herself out of the water just in time to watch the dogs bend its legs in stupor and let out a sleepy growl.

Phew.

Severus was eyeing her in amusement.

Never mind thanking her for saving both their lives.

"_Well_?" She pointed to herself. "I could use some help here."

"With what?" he raised an eyebrow at her in question.

"I have _no_ wand and I do not intend to sleep drenched to my bones," she snapped as she took off her shoes and poured the liquid contents onto the ground.

"I said you did not need your wand," he sneered at her. "Not that you could not perform magic."

* * *

The place was too cramped.

It was too… wooden.

She had used cushioning charms all over the floor but the tiny shelter reeked of wood and rotten leaves. Besides, it was not a comfortable position, sleeping in full view of one's teacher. She had to keep tucking her skirt every time she changed position. She would be mortified if he caught sight of her knickers.

Perish the thought…

There were no lights, just gnats.

He had sealed the entrance so that no wild animal could follow their scent and gain access to them while they slept. Sleep, however, was not to be her haven for quite some time.

The three-headed dog slept outside. Severus had place an indefinite charm on the flute and as long as nothing destroyed it, they would not have much to fear. Also, as long as they stayed inside the tiny shelter created out of tree barks and strong branches, the dog would not be able to attack them.

Or so she _hoped_.

She remembered how she had faced something quite similar to this dog in her first year.

With her friends.

Who were dead.

She swallowed and breathed deeply.

If only they had not died.

If only…

"Sleep, Miss Granger. We have a long journey before us in the morning."

"How did you know I was awake?"

She had her eyes closed and was _pretending_ to be resting.

"I've been a spy for too long. I think I know when someone is pretending." He sighed. She looked at his pale face staring at the wooden ceiling.

"Why did you do it, Professor? I mean, why did you not wait until the war ended to declare your true loyalties? You would have had a place, still, in that cursed world. _Unlike_ _me_."

"You forget that Dumbledore entrusted those last memories to me… I had to deliver them to Potter."

"No, I do not forget. Harry _never_ revealed, or planned to reveal, your work as a spy for the Order. In the last battle, _you_ stood up to them, _you_ went ahead and sided with… _us_. You could have stayed back and waited to see who won. No one would have been the wiser…"

Silence followed her words.

"That would have been the Slytherin way…"

She swatted a particularly annoying fly on her hand.

"So you made a mistake…"

"No."

His response caused her to look at him intently. His face was contemplative, and she could feel a sort of… sorrow emanate from his being. He was all alone.

Just like her.

Yes, loneliness grew on one.

It grew to the extent that one began to see everyone around them as lonely people.

"How long do you think it will take us to reach them? The Valkyries?" She changed the topic.

"I don't know, Miss Granger," came his honest reply. "But if we can persuade them, they will aid us."

"I doubt it," she argued. "They _like_ dead people. Why would they ever indulge in behaviour that would reduce death?"

She could see him roll his eyes.

"You understand too little."

She fumed silently at his reply. That was why he never shared things with her, never told her of his plans…

She knew too _little_. Granted, her knowledge was puny when compared to his but she still knew _something_.

And she could learn. She wasn't a dunderhead. But it wasn't like he _cared_. For him, she was… subordinate. As if they were in an army….

Yeah, an army with two soldiers, including one who prefers to be the Chief.

That left just one soldier, really.

Her private rants were getting unbearable.

She needed to sleep.

"Why did you turn you back on him? The Dark Lord?"

He stayed quiet. She knew he wasn't asleep.

But she wouldn't get an answer out of him by persisting.

Someday, though, she'd know.

Meanwhile, she had to survive in the… underworld. It was going to get perilous for them. She just hoped that she'd come of it alive. Oh well, even if she did not, she wouldn't have to travel far in the afterlife.

She was _already_ in the land of the dead.

* * *

Tell me if you liked it, and what you liked and what you hated about it so that I may write better.

If you have any ideas, any prompts, they are most welcome.


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